


With, Without Sense

by SecretKrissey (IceCreAMS)



Category: VA-11 Hall-A (Video Game)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/F, Leg Humping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vibrators, as in like kira miki has vibrating fingers, it's not a tag but i will make it one, ye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:22:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/pseuds/SecretKrissey
Summary: Streaming-Chan can hardly keep up with even her highest-paying subscribers’ comments. It’s a whirlwind of, “OMG GAY,” and “GET IT, GIRL,” along with spammed emoji’s and those bots that always slide past her chat manager’s purview, shoving suspicious links into the rapid feed. Her tongue dries up in her mouth the instant one of them says, “OH MY GOD ARE THEY GONNA KISS?”Because of course, everything escalates from there.
Relationships: Kira Miki/Streaming-chan | Nicole Chen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	With, Without Sense

It starts like this: the lights are low enough in the backstage lounge to make *Kira* Miki’s blue hair shine like the ocean—an observation which Streaming-Chan makes the unfortunate mistake of saying out loud. So naturally, her chat explodes.

Streaming-Chan can hardly keep up with even her highest-paying subscribers’ comments. It’s a whirlwind of, “OMG GAY,” and “GET IT, GIRL,” along with spammed emoji’s and those bots that always slide past her chat manager’s purview, shoving suspicious links into the rapid feed. Her tongue dries up in her mouth the instant one of them says, “OH MY GOD ARE THEY GONNA KISS?” 

Because of course, everything escalates from there. Bursts of, “OMG *KIRA* MIKIxSTREAMING-CHAN ACTION??” follow after, “THIS IS GONNA BE SO HOT.” 

See, the thing is: she could. Streaming-Chan could kiss *Kira* Miki.

That’s not a bad idea. That would make for good content. Maybe it would be even worth editing later for a full pay-to-view video. 

But also: this is *Kira* Miki. Singer and idol extraordinaire; the Lilim with a voice of the angels. The Lilim that she, Nicole Chen, has kind of had a thing for forever, but never ever told anyone. It’s only because of the push from her more professional connections that she got a backstage pass to *Kira* Miki’s concert in the first place. 

And it really was a great concert. All things considered.

But it’s only been minutes since the final chord was struck and the last notes of *Kira* Miki’s encore rang out across the venue, and already Streaming-Chan feels like she’s been standing in this low-lit backstage lounge for years, staring at someone she’s always thought was outside even _her_ reach as an internet personality.

“Really? You think my hair is pretty?” *Kira* Miki asks. She lifts a hand to her hair and twirls a lock of it around one finger. A pleasant smile warms her face; her eyes dart down to her own wavy, pearly aqua.

“Uh, yeah!” There is no hesitation needed here, really. The words just fall out of Streaming-Chan’s mouth. “Duh! You’re, like, _really_ pretty. All over.”

*Kira* Miki’s smile widens. “That’s very sweet of you, Streaming-Chan. Thank you.” 

“Nicole,” she rasps. “I’m Nicole. I mean—you can just call me Nicole. It’s cool. I don’t mind.”

“Nichole, then.” And lightning darts up and down her spine. Electric and sparking. Who knew her name could come out of someone else’s mouth like that? Damn. And *Kira* Miki’s eyes are so, so dark and deep, if Nicole were any more of a poet, she might be able to articulate other praises like, _Did you know I think I could get lost in your eyes sometimes like you have the whole universe spanning inside of them?_

But *Kira* Miki pins Nicole’s mismatched gaze with her night-sky eyes, still smiling. Maybe she thinks Streaming-Chan’s starstruck wordlessness is amusing. “And you’re not alone then, right? You have viewers even now?”

Nicole nods. “Sure do!” After a pause, she adds, “All of them say hi, by the way.” Most of them, anyway; the nice ones. *Kira* Miki doesn’t need to know about the trolls.

*Kira* Miki giggles. Nicole could listen to that track of her laugh looping on end until eternity.

The singer sits. She pats the space next to her on the wide couch that sits along both walls of the corner. It looks _very_ comfy, and Streamer-Chan is only remiss that her viewers will not be able to feel the way it sinks under her weight for themselves. “Oh. Well. This was a mistake.” 

“How come?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back up again.” 

“Right?” *Kira* Miki brightens. “I think the same thing to myself every time I sit here.”

Are pop stars supposed to be this relatable? Nicole thinks there should have been a disconnect at some point between them, but all she can say is, “Wow. You’re really, _really_ easy to talk to,” because it’s _true._ Talking to *Kira* Miki is like eating icing; sugary and sweet and she could just eat it up by the tub-full. 

*Kira* Miki laughs again, but it’s different than it was before. It sounds smarter. “And you certainly know how to make a Lilim feel good about herself.”

Nicole smiles. It feels a bit dopey and big on her face, but it’s earnest. “I mean, I gotta have _some_ way to thank you for letting us come backstage. I know that probably wasn’t easy, since it technically isn’t only _one_ person you’re letting in here.” Does *Kira* Miki know the sheer number of people she has at any time of the day? Does Nicole know? Streaming-Chan doesn’t. But those people are all here, too, seeing *Kira* Miki’s backstage lounge—a rare, VIP privilege. 

“Mm.” *Kira* Miki’s eyes rove to the webcam on her hat. “So your solution is to compliment me until I am positively giddy. I like it.”

“Oh, good.” _Because I sure do like_ you _._

Streaming-Chan is suddenly very, very aware that her chat has gone wild with fantasies about how this time together is going to play out. The premium member chat is going on about different sex positions they could get away with. Her mainstream chat is busy telling her different things to tell *Kira* Miki to flirt with her and get her in Streaming-Chan’s pants.

Take away Streaming-Chan, though, and Nicole thinks she’s so wound up and so excited, she could just about come from a single touch.

“Did you enjoy the concert?” 

“Oh—yeah—”

Just like that, easy conversation starts. 

It’s funny, too, because it’s such idle chatter. About as bland as the weather: _How was the concert? Did you have fun? What song was your favorite?_ And yet—and yet—Nicole finds herself buzzing. Her hands move in exaggerated motions even though she’s not talking to her viewers, even though she’s not putting on a show. Not now, not really. And she doesn’t know when that stopped only that somewhere in the course of *Kira* Miki tucking a loose lock of seafoam blue hair behind her ear and the way her lips part around, _I didn’t know you listened to my songs,_ Nicole realizes she’s talking less like Streaming-Chan and more like _Nicole._

She doesn’t know when that happened.

She doesn’t know why she can’t stop.

And then and for some reason, suddenly, after *Kira* Miki said something that made Nicole toss her head back so hard, her baseball cap nearly fell off, *Kira* Miki drops a hand onto her thigh. 

All of a sudden, Nicole is conscious of how close the Lilim singer is sitting. It’s too close. Or perhaps it’s not close enough—her nerves can’t decide. The hand on her thigh is distracting and every time Nicole’s eyes dart down to those long, white fingers high on the widest part of her leg, her chat _screams._ She can almost hear their exultant cries as their own audio track.

“Is this okay?” 

God.

*Kira* Miki doesn’t even need to ask, but she does. She does, and it’s so fucking sweet. 

Nicole nods, suddenly breathless. Soon, at any moment now, she’s going to have to shut off her chat feed from herself. She won’t be able to give it any attention, not if she’s about to get close and intimate with *Kira* Miki.

_Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s a legitimate sentence that has context right now. I can’t believe I might actually—_

“Nicole.” *Kira* Miki leans in. Her pale, smooth face fills her world like a moon. “Would you mind if I touched you?” 

“Y—” Nicole almost squeaks. “You _want_ to touch me?”

“Inappropriately, yes.”

And then and at last, Streaming-Chan closes the chat. “Oh, _please.”_

Those long, graceful fingers slide up her thigh. When they slip between her legs, Nicole’s breath turns funny. She spreads her legs, eyelids fluttering at the tender, ghost of a touch that *Kira* Miki’s fingerprints leave. It’s a fairy-light, dancing thing. The nerves along the inside of her thighs quake. 

“Wow. So you really are this sensitive,” *Kira* Miki whispers. “I had always wondered…” 

It’s admittedly a _little_ difficult to pay attention to a conversation when she’s being so wonderfully stimulated, but Nicole manages to pry open her eyes. “What? Wondered what?”

*Kira* Miki bows her head. She is close enough that her long, blue hair falls over Nicole’s shoulder, too. Still, her fingers slowly rub and press over Nicole’s jeans and suddenly, Streaming-Chan wonders if she’s about to get so wet the Lilim will be able to feel it through the denim. 

“I wondered…” she murmurs, quiet as a mouse. “I—I saw a few of your premium membership videos, you know? I’ve watched you—with others—but only when I’m alone. I wondered what it would be like to be the one touching you.”

Nicole’s heart jumps somewhere high in the vicinity of her throat. “Wait! Y-you’ve watched my—”

“—if I say it would make me the happiest Lilim in the galaxy to make you come for myself, would that be all right?”

Nicole might die.

No, like, she might actually die.

Her face burns so red and so hot, there might be steam coming out of her ears. “Ah—ah ha ha—” Her laughter bubbles and lurches out of her, oddly shaped and lopsided because she can’t stop flip-flopping between ecstasy and incredulousness. “What? You don’t even need to ask! Of course?”

*Kira* Miki lifts her head.

The smile on her face could power that dingy-ass bar down the street until the star over their heads finally burns out, Nicole’s sure.

“Thank you,” she says. 

And then her fingers turn on.

Nicole hadn’t even _known_ *Kira* Miki’s CH1A model could _do_ that: that she could have vibrating fingers. *Kira* Miki’s particular series apparently does and the effect is instantaneous. Nicole tosses her head back with a messy, torn groan. Her hips thrust forward and up into the delightful, buzzing pressure of those fingers against her front. They drift with a steady pressure up and down and up and down as if trying to chase the outline of her labia through her jeans.

Nicole wants to grab those fingers and stick them on her clit until she comes with all the force of a hover truck bowling into her gut. She doesn’t. But she wants to.

*Kira* Miki must know that’s what she wants, though, because in the next moment, with her ear craned towards Nicole’s mouth, she presses more firmly and drags her fingers up until they are dangerously, wonderfully, _perfectly_ above her clit.

Nicole’s hips buck.

She chokes back a whine. “O-oh how did you _know—”_ She doesn’t even get to finish. In the next broken breath, she begs, “Please! Harder!” and *Kira* Miki obliges. 

Her vibrating fingers press down, shoving against her hood. 

It’s the roughness of it through her jeans, through her underwear, that gets Nicole to bite back a guttural sound that could have, she thinks, been a scream if she was any less conscious of where they are and that there are most likely people in the hallway outside. 

It’s been _way_ too long since she touched herself, she thinks. She came _way_ too fast.

Nicole can feel it in the pound of her heart after her climax; she can feel it in her labored breathing and in the way after she sits up and *Kira* Miki pulls her hand away, fingers turning off. She can _feel_ that she isn’t finished; that she needs to go again.

So when *Kira* Miki opens her mouth, Nicole interrupts her to bluntly murmur, “Can I hump your leg?”

*Kira* Miki’s eyes widen. The artificial flesh of her cheeks round out in a burst of a laugh that she stifles. But she nods and nods and nods and tilts herself slightly, shifting her weight in the quicksand couch cushions to make her leg more available.

Nicole climbs over her, scissoring her legs around *Kira* Miki’s.

* * *

Streaming-Chan—no, _Nicole—_ is the most curious young woman *Kira* Miki has ever had the pleasure of entertaining backstage.

She doesn’t normally make a habit of doing things like this, but *Kira* Miki often has a difficult time telling people no when she knows that she can make them so happy and bring them so much joy. 

Offering to touch Nicole, however _—_ *Kira* Miki is forced to admit that decision was a little selfish. It hadn’t only been because she could tell Nicole wanted her. 

Some part of *Kira* Miki wanted Nicole, too. 

But now, with Nicole’s legs wrapped around her own, her cunt rubbing up and down and up and down shamelessly against her thigh—as close as she can get even with her jeans separating them—*Kira* Miki finds herself relieved that she’s being selfish. She makes such whimpering, desperate noises with her nose scrunched up and her face caught in pleasure, mouth hanging open. *Kira* Miki resists the urge to kiss her—they haven’t kissed yet, have they?—watching and listening as Nicole babbles in her high, thready tone. Words tumble from her bitten lips endlessly: “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” like she _needs_ this. Like she needs *Kira* Miki’s leg closer; her body more available. 

Her voice lends a surprisingly steady rhythm. 

*Kira* Miki adds the clip along the other tracks she’s been able to record and loops it. She pitches it to the right key and smiles as Nicole shudders and makes a long, thin moan. 

“I’m gonna—I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead,” *Kira* Miki says, smiling. Taking in everything she can. “Oh please. Please go ahead.”

_Come on me._

Nicole makes a strangled, tight sound—even better than her first orgasm—and her face does this contorting, releasing thing that *Kira* Miki avidly watches, also recording and taking in every detail she can of it.

In the afterward, the backstage lounge is filled with only quiet.

Nicole slumps against her over her side; *Kira* Miki reaches out with her opposite hand to touch her hair and straighten her hat for her that had fallen lopsided in the throes of chasing her own pleasure. She’s breathing so harshly, now, as if she’s run a marathon.

“That…that was pretty hot,” Nicole mumbles into her shoulder. “Thanks.”

*Kira* Miki hums. It’s very hard to take her fingers away and out of Nicole’s hair. “I believe I should be the one thanking _you,”_ she says. “You’ve put on quite a show for me.” The song is nearly to its completion, *Kira* Miki thinks. She is just mixing the last soundbites to the appropriate keys, manipulating the beat to something low and sinuous. 

Nicole’s head snaps up. “What? You _liked_ that?” 

“Of course.” *Kira* Miki feels positively wonderful. “I liked it so much, that you’re more than welcome to hump my leg any day you like. It was very nice.”

Nicole laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs, incredulous and wild. It’s such an amazing sound, *Kira* Miki finds. So unabashedly loud. So crass. So bright and textured like carbonated soda pop.

*Kira* Miki selfishly adds that sound to her developing song, too.

“Yeah,” Nicole nods and tucks her own hair behind her ear. “Yeah, okay. Why not? Sounds great.”

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU TO THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS <3 <3 <3 I had a lot of fun with this, even though I haven't written Streaming-Chan and *Kira* Miki before, haha (so I hope they're in character?). But I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it either way <3 <3 <3
> 
> if you'd like to request your own fic, check out my [carrd](https://krisseycrystal.carrd.co/) for more info (as well as other places to find me)


End file.
